


Familiar Strangers

by scilessalvatore



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Crossover, Dean is team stydia, Drunk Werewolves, Fluff and Humor, Future Fic, I'm Bad At Tagging, Im not going to do this story justice, Jealous Stiles Stilinski, Lydia has a type, Matchmaker Allison Argent, Matchmaker Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Mccall pack Team free will team up, Stiles hates Dean, Teen Wolf centric, Unresolved Tension, allison is alive, basically a total rewrite past season 3a, early seasons of supernatural, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-10-18 16:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17584724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scilessalvatore/pseuds/scilessalvatore
Summary: "Dean has absolutely nothing in common with Stiles." Lydia laughs, finding the notion completely ludicrous."A stubborn, suspicious natured, car obsessed man with the maturity level of seven year old and a tendency for flannel and sarcasm? Yeah. You're right, Lydia. They have absolutely nothing in common."{Teen Wolf\Supernatural Crossover.}





	1. Welcome to Beacon Hills

"How crazy is it that we are half way through our second semester of our sophomore year of college? Kind of hard to believe." 

"What's hard to believe is that we are actually in college." Lydia sighs, resting her chin in her hands. "I mean…it’s spring break and here we are, back in Beacon Hills dealing with the yet another supernatural threat." She can't help but roll her eyes out of exasperation. "It feels like we are still in high school, like nothing has changed." 

"I know, the situation isn't ideal-" Allison agrees. "but I love being home. Beacon Hills is the first place, out of all the places I've lived, that I really felt at home. I met my favorite people here." She smiles, reaching for Lydia's hand. "Despite it’s constant chaos, I love this town. And I know you do too, admit it."

Lydia's features soften. "I do." She admits with a squeeze of her best friends' fingers. "But I'd love it a lot more if we could come home and just relax. Not for the sake of risking our lives to save it." 

"Thank you." The girls say in unison as the waitress refills their coffees. 

"I'd also love it if something happened that wasn’t supernatural." She continues. "I miss good old fashion drama, ya know?" 

Allison nods. "Couldn’t agree more." 

Lydia swirls her spoon in her mug as the thinks about the times when her life wasn’t plagued by the supernatural. When she was just a normal high school girl and the most dramatic thing to happen was when Rebecca Henderson walked in on her boyfriend and Danny hooking up in a closet at one of her parties. 

Part of her missed the simplicity of her old life but she knew too much to ever go back. She'd been through too much, all of them had. But one of the things the supernatural had given her was true friends, a pack. They were bonded, through trust and understanding -mostly trauma- and would be for life. 

"So how are things with Scott? Any drama there?" Lydia teases. 

"No." Allison laughs. "We're solid. But! I actually did hear that Isaac-"

Lydia's focus is broken by the ringing of the diner's door, it's bell signifying new customers. Two men walk in dressed in black suites and ties. Lydia keeps her eyes locked on them as the waitress ushers them to an empty table. One was abnormally tall with flowy hair, that made Lydia wonder what kind of conditioner he uses. While the other was a few inches shorter, but he would still tower over Lydia. Lydia also notices he is adorably bow legged. Both are lean and way too muscular to be just average business men. 

“Well, hello...” Allison chimes in when she turns to see what's distracting her best friend. 

“Tell me about it. Finally some fresh faces in Beacon Hills.” Lydia nearly drools. “very, very attractive faces.”  

Allison giggles. “What do you think their story is?” 

Lydia continues to stare. The one with longer hair types away on a laptop. The other, who sits on the left side of the table, listens attentively to him talk as he sips on his coffee. He seems to crack a joke and then smiles brightly to himself, chucklingly lightly. Lydia can't fight the smile that creeps on her own lips. His smile causes goosebumps to appear on her arms and runs a shiver down her spine. Damn, he was ridiculously attractive. The other gives him a warning look and then they both lean in as they talk in hushed tones.

“Boyfriends?” Allison adds. 

Lydia ponders the thought, scanning their body language. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”

She has deja vú. Her and Allison staring at attractive strangers trying to figure out what their deal is. 

“Brothers?” Allison had asked. 

It was the first time they'd seen Ethan and Aiden, walking down the school hallway. Aiden. She quickly shakes off the sudden heaviness in her heart. 

Lydia had the feeling the pair she was currently looking at were also brothers, thought she can’t explain it why. She doesn’t vocalize it. 

“They look like they’re FBI.” 

“Yeah... I’m not sure about that either.” Lydia says with kinked brow. She’s getting a vibe that she can’t quite put her finger on it. She also can’t seem to tear her eyes from them, specifically the one on the left. Something about him, it was like he was magnetic. 

“I hope I’m wrong. Remember when Scott’s dad was here trying to solve the case of the sacrifices?” Allison rolls her eyes. “FBI agents are the last people we need help from right now.” 

Lydia hums in response. Not being able to shake this odd feeling. 

“Okay, uh, we gotta go.” Allison says looking up from her buzzing phone screen. “Pack meeting.” She explains, putting cash on the table to cover the check. 

Lydia tries shaking herself out of this weird haze. “Ok, yeah, let’s go.” They walk right in the eye line of the left side of the table. She can’t fight the urge to take one last look at the handsome duo in the corner.  She locks eyes with him, he sends her a flirtatious smirk before Allison pulls her out the door. 

 

____________________

 

“You know what’s crazy?” Sam says, his voice breaking through the rock melody and the engines humming. 

“What in our lives isn’t crazy, Sammy?” Dean comments, turning the radio dial. “Crazy is pretty much our normal.” 

Sam huffs a small laugh. “True.... But I mean-“ He flips back a few pages in their dad’s journal. “Dad barely mentions Beacon Hills in here but from what I’ve researched about this place, it seems like a supernatural hot spot.” 

Dean ponders that for a moment. “Have you read anything that mentions the name Argent?” 

“Uhh, no.” Sam continues flipping. “I don’t think so.” His forehead crinkles as he continues to search. 

“Well, the Argents are a family of hunters, a long line of hunters. Really well known, Dad mentioned them a lot growing up.” 

Sam’s brows furrow, trying to recall any of his dad’s hunting stories that included the name. “The name does sound a little familiar.” 

“Dad and his hunting buddies used to talk about Beacon Hills and how it had some weird cases being reported throughout the years. Dad never went himself but he heard of hunters that went to check the place out.” Dean explains. “Then a family of Argents moved to Beacons Hills a few years back. Seems like they took care of everything because there hasn’t been another hunter here since.” 

“Until now at least.” Sam says wearily.

“Exactly.” Dean nods. “Sam, this family is legendary. And they've protected this town for years. If they can’t handle whatever’s going on...” He trails off, his eyes turning back to the road. 

They both stare ahead at the dark pavement. They’re surrounded by trees, the impala’s headlights are the only source of light.  

“I don’t know,” Dean sighs. 

Their faces are suddenly illuminated by a bright neon sign. Now Sam can see the uncertainty in his brother's eyes. 

“I just have a weird feeling.” He concludes as they pull into the motel parking lot. 

 

____________________

 

"When does your Dad get back in town?" Isaac asks Allison from across the table. 

"The earliest flight he could get was Thursday." Allison responses, nearly cringing. 

"No Argent, No Derek. No wonder this town went to shit without us here." Isaac quips. 

Lydia has to fight off a smile as she watches Stiles roll his eyes at the beta. She'd be lying to say that she didn’t partly miss these pack meetings. Everyone circled around the small table in Scott's kitchen had her feeling sentimental.

"Derek said he should be back no later than Friday morning." Scott replies, choosing to ignore the latter part of Isaac's statement. "We can handle things for the next 32 hours or so." Stiles and Lydia share a doubtful look. "Right?" Scott adds, his eyes scanning the room. 

"Things have been pretty quiet the last few days." Malia shrugs. 

"Yeah, that's what makes me nervous." Stiles murmurs, eyes still on Lydia. 

"Always the optimist." She replies, smirking at him playfully. 

"Realist." He corrects, returning the smirk. 

"To think I could be spending this spring break on a beach with a tequila bay breeze in my hand and surrounded by scantly clade women….." Isaac utters with his eyes closed. "But here we are." He laughs humorlessly raising his eyes to Liam. "All because you couldn't hold down the fort." 

"I'm still in high school! I had midterms and lacrosse and-"

"And yet Scott managed." Isaac says cutting him off. 

"Scott wasn't alone!" Liam shouts. 

"Ok, that's enough." Scott demands, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This isn't Liam's fault." 

"Malia's right." Allison says, breaking the tense silence. "It has been quiet. So maybe…" She trails off, a smile forming on her lips. Lydia instantly recognizes it as the face she makes when she has an idea. "Maybe for tonight we can act like normal college kids on spring break." 

"You mean by drinking an absurd amount of alcohol." Liam laughs. 

"Exactly!" Allison returns, ignoring the mocking nature of his tone. 

"And dancing?" Malia asks, a hopeful glint in her eyes. 

"Oh, yes!" Kira bounces with excitement. "That sounds so fun!" Allison giggles in response. "Can we please?" Kira pleads, turning her attention to Scott.

Scott is unable to stop a soft smile from forming on his lips. He nods causing Kira to nearly jump on Malia with happiness. 

"So Malia's in and Kira, clearly." Allison laughs. "Me and Scott. Anyone else?" 

"I wish…Biology test tomorrow." Liam groans. "…..and I don’t have a fake ID." 

Malia punches Isaac when he breaks out in laughter. "I'm in." He says, rubbing his now sore arm.

Allison stares at Lydia expectantly. "Oh, screw it." Lydia concedes. "I'm in." 

"Yes!" Allison and Kira cheer in unison. 

Stiles, who's decision solely waited on the response from the strawberry blonde, pipes up. "So where are we going?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these shows and these characters and I really would love to see what would happen if they ever met. So I started writing.  
> It's difficult navigating the two different worlds and I don't feel as if I'm doing them justice. So let me know if you guys are enjoying the story and if i should continue it. Feedback would also be very much appreciated!


	2. Fake IDs

"Oh, cool." Stiles says pointing at a car in the bar parking lot. 

"Definitely a lot cooler than that rusted square you call a jeep." Isaac snickers. Malia punches him again. "Would you quit it with the punches?!"

"They're all well deserved." She smirks.

Lydia follows Stiles’ gaze to an old black impala. She’s has a sneaking suspicion that she’s seen it before. But she quickly shakes off the thought as they walk into the bar, deciding rather to focus on having a fun night with her friends. 

“This isn’t exactly the kind of bar I had in mind...” Malia huffs. “A run down sports bar.” As complains, eyeing down the bar and it’s occupants. 

“Yeah well this is the only bar in Beacon Hills that isn’t strict about IDs.”

Malia huffs again. “What about that gay bar? You guys have gotten in there before.” 

“Yeah!” Kira agrees. “That places looks so fun! Lots of dancing!” 

“Yeah, no.” Stiles declines with a shake of his head. “Bad experiences there.” His spine shivers from the memory. 

“Why? Because gay guys didn’t find you attractive?” Scott teases. 

Lydia has to bite her lip to stifle a laugh from Stiles’ exasperated expression. 

“No, I was thinking more about the giant lizard that tried to kill us all, Scott!” 

Scott simply laughs in return. “Giant lizard.” He repeats with a chuckle. 

“Oh so sorry, by giant lizard I mean Lydia’s ex boyfriend.” 

“Hey! Don’t drag me into this!” Lydia snipes. 

It’s Stiles’ turn to stifle a laugh. “Sorry.” He says, however his smirk says he’s anything but. 

“Whatever,” She retorts with a roll of her eyes. "I’m going to get a drink." Then she struts away, leaving the remainder of the pack standing idly by the door. 

“C’mon, guys. this place has potential.” Allison pleads, desperate for a fun night with her favorite people. “The music's good and most importantly the drinks are cheap.” 

“You had me at cheap drinks.” Isaac says cheekily. 

“Do you think the DJ will let me request something?” Kira chirps as she links arms with Malia and they follow Scott toward a table in the corner. 

 

“Whiskey sour, please.” Lydia says to bartender. “Heavy on the whiskey.” She humbles, mostly to herself. She had a feeling she was going to need a strong buzz to make it through the night. 

“I like your style.” A voice chimes in to her right. Lydia chooses to ignore it. If there’s a single thing she’s learned at college it’s how to avoid creepy men trying to hit on her in a bar. “You look familiar...” the man attempts again. “Have we met?” 

Lydia internally groans. She was right, she was going to need a strong buzz to make it through. Clearly ignoring him wasn’t going to work. She’s was going to have to crush his ego instead. “Really? Is that the best you-“ Her voice catches in her throat as she faces the stranger. It’s the guy from the diner this afternoon.  

“The best I’ve got? Nah...” He smirks.  “That wasn’t a pick up line. But when I use one, you’ll know it.” He winks and Lydia feels her knees buckle. 

“You. Uh, the diner. You were at the diner this afternoon.” She spits out. 

“Right.” He chuckles. “The pretty red head that left before I could catch her name.” 

“Lydia, uh, her names Lydia. I’m Lydia.” She takes a deep breath. “I swear I’m usually more articulate.” She blushes slightly, extending her hand. It’s not like her to be so flustered when talking to a guy. 

He laughs and takes her hand. “Nice to meet you Lydia. I’m Dean.”

“So Dean,” Lydia starts, regaining her confidence. “What brings you to the cheery town of Beacon Hills?” 

The sarcasm in her tone causes him to smirk. He bites back the phrase ‘what’s a girl so beautiful doing in a town so grim’. To be fair, it’s obvious that not all of Beacon Hills knows of it’s dark past. But because of hunters stories and his dad’s journal, Dean knew all too much. 

“I’m working a case, actually.” Dean explains reaching for his badge in his jacket pocket. 

Lydia inspects his badge, dubiously. But he’s quick to slide in back into his pocket. “FBI, huh?” He nods. Part of her brain can hear Allison’s victorious ‘i told you so’ but the other part is telling her that something isn’t quite right. She decides to roll with it. “My friend Stiles is in the pre-FBI program.” She says absentmindedly pointing her thumb toward the table of her friends.

“Is Stiles the one that’s glaring at us right now?” 

 

“Who is that guy?” Stiles spits out a little more bitterly than he had intended. 

The remainder of the table turns their attention to follow Stiles gaze toward the bar, toward Lydia and the guy she’s talking to.  

“Oh my god..” Allison nearly gasps at the familiar face. 

“What?” Stiles eyes shoot from Allison and back to the suspicious stranger. “What?” He prods impatiently. 

“Oh, nothing...” Allison meets Stiles frantic eyes. “It’s just, uh... he was at the diner this afternoon with his partner when me and Lydia were there.” 

“He’s hot.” Malia interjects, earning an agreeable nod from all the girls at the table. 

“His partner?” Stiles echoes, praying to whatever god there is that means he’s gay. 

“Yeah...I think he might be FBI.” Allison explains, her eyes scanning the bar for said partner. He’s no where to be found. 

“Oh great. Exactly what we need...” Stiles grumbles continuing to stare at the pair at the bar. He didn’t care for the way this guy was leaning into Lydia. The closeness in proximity made Stiles’ stomach twist. He promptly chugs his beer. 

 

About thirty minutes into their conversation Dean’s phone starts to ring. He gives Lydia an apologetic smile before he answers. 

“What’s up, Sa- woah, woah. How much coffee have you had?” He chuckles and Lydia finds herself admiring his dimples. “Can it wait un-alright, alright fine.” He says with a defeated sigh. 

“Your partner?” Lydia asks when he hangs up the phone. Part of her still isn’t buying the whole FBI story, not that she really had a reason not to. 

“Uh, yeah. Sam. He’s a needy one.” Dean jokes with a light hearted eye roll. “I’m so sorry. I would love to stay, continuing talking but it's apparently an ‘emergency’.” He can’t fight the urge to roll his eyes again at Sam’s terrible timing.

“No worries, Agent.” Lydia sing songs, trying to disguise the disappointment in her voice. “In case you stay in town longer than expected...” She starts writing her number on a bar napkin with a pen she found in her bag. “and you want to meet up for some more drinks,”  

“Whiskey sours, extra whiskey.” He winks playfully. It’s taking a lot for him to remove himself from this bar stool and away from this girl. Something about her keeps pulling him in. It's like she's magnetic.  

“Exactly..” She smirks, a hint of a laugh in her voice. 

“Hopefully I’ll see you around, Lydia.” 

Lydia can’t find the strength in her voice for a rebuttal. When his lips release her name, she swears she has never heard anything more seductive in her life. Well, the boy was basically dripping sex. Not a boy, nowhere near a boy. He was a man. He throws her no last panty melting smile before he exits through the bar's side door. Lydia has to will her legs to carry her to the table where her friends are seated.  

“Hey, you.” Allison laughs as Lydia dreamily slides into the empty seat next to hers. 

She clears her throat and takes a long slug of her drink, ignoring her friends expectant eyes and trying to shake thoughts of stubble covered dimples and button down clad biceps. 

“How’d it go with agent tall dark and handsome?” Allison prods impatiently. 

Lydia shrugs, not really wanting to talk about it while Scott, Isaac and Stiles are present. “Good.” She says simply before turning her attention to Kira and Malia, who are dancing on the empty floor in front of the DJ booth. 

“Good!?” Allison exclaims. “That’s all you have to say?! Lydia, you were basically in his lap.” 

Lydia looks from Allison’s wide eyes to the other occupants of the table. Scott and Isaac are clearly trying to suppress laugher at Allison’s outburst, looking back and forth between the two girls like it’s a tennis match. While Stiles is squinting at his beer bottle as he picks at the label. 

Lydia decides her best course of action is to ignore everything that had just came from her best friend's mouth and to change the subject. “You know what...” Lydia starts looking around the nearly deserted bar. With a lack of mysterious strangers Lydia really has no interest in staying. “Maybe we should go to that gay bar after all.” 

“Yes!” Malia and Kira squeal, running back to the table. “Let’s go!” 

“Ok, everyone finish your drinks.” Allison announces after a moment of contemplation. “We’re going to The Jungle.” 

Isaac pounds his hands against his chest and forges monkey noises, solely amusing himself. 

“Maybe on the way, we can drop Isaac off in a real jungle.” Malia says, earning hums of agreement from the other pack members and sounds of protest from Isaac. 


	3. A Sneaking Suspicion

Stiles huffs, continuing to drum his fingers against his steering wheel.

"Ok, what's your deal?" Scott urges, leaning over to turn down the volume on the jeeps radio. 

Stiles flashes him an unnerved glare before quickly returning his attention to the road. "My deal? I don’t have a deal." 

"You do so have a deal. You're been huffing and puffing ever since you woke up this morning." 

"Did you ever stop to think that I'm just hungover and cranky?" Stiles proposes condescendingly. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t want to be woken up at 8 in the morning by a hyperactive puppy of a human being after a night of drinking so I can drive us both to breakfast?" 

Scott narrows his eyes at him. "I'm going to choose not to take that personally because I know there is something going on with you. So I forgive you." He quips as they pull into the diner parking lot. "Now I'm going to go get us a table, you take a few moments to calm down because if it happens again I won't be as quick to forgive." Scott flashes him a quick smile before jumping out of the jeep. 

"God, you need to spend some time away from Allison. You're starting to sound just like her." Stiles grumbles to himself as Scott slams the door. "It's annoying." Scott ignores him as he skips into the diner. For a split second, Stiles considers asking Scott for the bite. If it meant that he could throw back as many shots as they did last night and be as chipper as Scott is this morning, he'd do it. He takes a few deep breath, also spitting out some profanity, before he follows his best friend into the diner. 

"I'm sorry." Stiles sighs as he slumps in the booth adjacent from Scott. 

"Here…" Scott slides him a warm ceramic mug. "Ordered you a coffee." Stiles hums appreciatively into the steaming liquid. Scott decides to wait until Stiles has had a few sips of the caffeine until he reproaches the subject. "So… Are we going to talk about it?"

Stiles eyes lift from where they were previously scanning the menu. "Talk about what, Scott?" 

The warning tone in his voice causing Scott to hesitate. "Why you seemed so on edge last night?"

"I wasn't on edge." He retorts defensively. "I was just annoyed." 

Scott sees an opening and jumps on it. "Annoyed about what?"

"That we were wasting our time at some bar when we should've been doing something more productive. Like research or, I don't know. But I'd really like to know what we're dealing with here." Stiles rushes out before the waitress returns to take their food order. 

"So what can get for you handsome boys?" She smiles. "Hold on let me guess." She interjects before either boy can get a word out. "Omelet hold the mushrooms, side of hash browns and toast." She points the end of her pen toward Scott. He nods. "And chocolate chip pancakes, no whip with a side of bacon." 

"Guilty." Stiles smiles. If there was one thing he definitely missed about being home it was local places already knowing his order. It took a little stress out of his extremely stressful life. 

"Coming right up." She says scooping up the menus from the tables. 

"Thank you, Helen!" The boys chime in unison. The older women turns her head to send the boys a wink. Stiles chuckles into his coffee mug. 

"Stiles.." Scott starts slowly. "I know you're worried about whatever threat were dealing with. Trust me, so am I. But were going to figure it out just like we always-"

Stiles focus is broken when the window next to him begins to rumble slightly. He sees a familiar black car pull into the lot. As the driver kills the engine, the rumbling stops. A memory flickers in his brain of the same car parked outside of the bar last night. He had complimented the vehicle and Isaac had insulted his. 

"-and don't say it was just you being annoyed about our lack of productivity because you were drinking a lot for someone who wanted to be productive." Scott disputes. "I think I have a feeling what’s really going on with you." Scott continues, not noticing Stiles' lack of attention. "Something was bothering you last night and I know it wasn't because we ended up at The Jungle so don't even try to argue that because you were acting the same at-" 

Stiles' eyes widen as the driver emerges. It's the guy who was hitting on Lydia last night at the bar. His annoyance from earlier returns. His face heats up and his veins run cold. 

"Stiles? Stiles, are you even listening to me?" Scott bumps his shin under the table. 

"Yeah, I'm listening." Stiles nods at his best friend as he clutches the booth's seat, his knuckles whitening. 

"So are you going to tell me what else was bothering you the other night?" Scott pushes. "Besides Isaac because that's pretty much a constant thing between you two." Scott adds as Stiles opens his mouth. 

Stiles eyes the door as he walks in with another guy who he assumes is the partner that Allison had mentioned. "Just the whole wasting our time thing, Scotty." Stiles says haphazardly reaching for his coffee. 

"I told you that-" Scott begins to argue until he notices Stiles isn’t really present. Stiles' eyes are shooting daggers at two men sat a few tables over. It takes only a second or two for it to click in his head that one of them is the guy Lydia was talking to at the bar earlier in the night. "So there's absolutely nothing else bothering you." Scott implores, a smirk playing on his lips. 

"Nope." Stiles replies quickly, eyes still locked on the duo. 

"Umhmm." Scott hums, laughing into his glass of OJ. 

 

____________________

Allison barely dodges out of the way as Stiles burst through the open doorway to her house. “Hello to you too, Stiles.” She effused sarcastically. He ignores her, continuing to mumble profanity under his breath as he marches to the kitchen. “What’s his problem?” She asks Scott as she closes the door behind him. 

“We met the sheriff at the crime scene...” Scott starts with tired expression. “And those FBI agents showed up.” 

“Oh.. well that explains the angry mummering.” She notes, both of them laughing lightly as they walk to join Stiles in the kitchen. 

"What's with him?" Malia asked, her and Kira eyed him wearily as they walked in. Allison and Scott shrugged, seemingly tired of Stiles' theatrics. Stiles had been pacing the kitchen floor since he'd arrived, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the other pack members, while also stressing out the present members. 

"I'm not even going to ask." Lydia had said to the others after taking one look at Stiles. Then she took up residency in an empty stool against the kitchen island. 

"FINALLY!" Stiles yells as Isaac walks in the door, causing Kira to flinch and for Isaac to mutter a snide comment to Malia. "Now can we get on with the meeting?" 

"My dad should be here any minute." Allison says, looking down at her phone. 

"Sorry, we're starting without him." He bites back impatiently. Lydia gives him a warning look. He takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry." 

"It's fine, Stiles." Allison says understandingly. "He just texted that he's about to turn onto our block. So go ahead and get started." 

"Oh, Thank God." Stiles praises. "Thank you."

"It's not like you gave her much of an option." Malia digs. 

Lydia looks to Stiles expecting a witty retort but instead he jumps right into the meeting. Wow, he was really determined to stay on task. As he quickly drums his fingers against the counter she wonders how much Adderall he'd taken today. 

"Let's start by reviewing the previous crime scenes." He swings his arms like he's not exactly sure what to do with them. Lydia can tell he wishes he had his crime board right now. And honestly she agrees, it does come in handy. "The first victim was Nathaniel Moore, age seventeen, found on the running trail by the preserve. The police report said cause of death was severe blood lose." They all nod, recalling the details from the group skype call a few days prior. "And then the second victim was Hannah Parry, age sixteen, found next to her car in the Hillman's craft store parking lot. Cause of death was also reported as blood lose." Stiles pauses as Argent walks in. He nods for Stiles to continue, not wanting to interrupt his flow, as he leans against the counter next to his daughter. "When my dad had first called about these cases my first thought was that we were dealing with another ritual sacrifice situation." 

"Another ritual sacrifice situation." Isaac repeats. "Wow how fucked up are our lives that 'another' is anyway near the phrase 'ritual sacrifice'." 

"He does have a point." Malia cuts in before Stiles can yell at him for interrupting. 

"That's besides the point.." Scott counters with pointed looks to his betas. "Continue, Stiles."

"ANYWAY," Stiles starts clearly vexed. Lydia has to bite her lip to hold in a laugh. "After looking at some of the crime scene photos it was clear that the police records were being… kind with their wording." 

"Meaning?" Kira asks, her expression mixed with confusion and concern. 

"They looked like they had been mauled to death." Stiles shakes his head as if he was going to help wipe the images from his brain. "I mean, really brutally." 

"So are you thinking rogue werewolf?" Allison chimes in. "Possibly going through transition?" 

"That would make sense." Scott agrees. "Stiles, didn't your dad say that the third victim said that he saw a big black dog?" 

"Wait, third victim?" Lydia interjects. 

"I was getting to that." Stiles clarifies with a point of his finger. "There was another attack tonight but the victim survived."

"And he said it was a big black dog?" Allison asks. 

"Well, maybe… my dad was going to question him about it but then those FBI dicks stepped in." Stiles groans. 

"FBI?" Argent's eyebrows knit with sudden curiosity. 

"They aren’t dicks, Stiles. They're just trying to do their job." Lydia corrects. 

"If being complete douchebags is in their job description then yes, you’re right. They are doing their jobs." Stiles spits back. 

"Complete douchebags… really?" Lydia huffs. She can feel her cheeks heating up with annoyance. 

"Yes! Really!" Stiles bellows. "They roll into town in their tacky black impala like they own the place and-" 

"If I recall correctly you called that 'tacky black impala' cool the other night." Lydia interrupts, smugly. 

Stiles scoffs. "Maybe I thought it was a little cool but that was before I heard how obnoxiously loud it was!" 

"They drive a black impala?" Argent inquires. He's ignored. 

"You’re ridiculous." Lydia laughs dryly.

"You would stand up for them." Stiles bite back a little harder than he'd intended. 

"What's that suppose to mean?" Lydia seethed. 

The entire room holds their breaths as they look between the pair. 

Argent breaks the tension, seizing the opportunity to finally get a word in. "Just so I'm getting this correctly, two FBI agents came into town driving in a black impala?" 

"A 1967 impala," Isaac corrects. "and in real good condition too." he whistles with appreciation earning him a few stranger looks. "What? My uncle was a mechanic. He taught me about cars." 

Argent squints at the beta for a minute before continuing, "Those aren’t FBI agents." 

Lydia stops glaring at Stiles only to whip her head toward Argent. "What?" 

"They aren't FBI." Argent repeats. "They're hunters."

"What?!" They shriek collectively. 

"And good ones at that." Argents adds. 

"How do you know this?" Allison asks as the rest of the room stares at him, dumbfounded.

"Do you know where they would be right now?" He asks, ignoring his daughter's question. 

"No, how would-"

"They're staying at the Motel off Old Cedar Avenue." Lydia interjects before sheepishly bowing her head from wondering eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have few chapters already written but I'm not sure if they are even worth posting.  
> Feedback would be greatly appreciated:)


	4. Common Goal

"Scott, for the love of god. Just kick down the door." Stiles pleads impatiently. 

"He is not kicking down the door." Argent sighs.

"Yeah, then they would know we were here." Isaac says, with an expression that screams 'duh'. "The key is to be stealthy." 

"No. Stealth is not the key." Argent disputes, wishing he was by himself. Well, Scott could stay but the other two were getting on his last nerve. "because we are not snooping. I just need to talk to them." 

Suddenly two guns click behind them. "So talk." 

They all slowly turn to face the men who's room they were currently staking out. 

"Oh, shit." Stiles mummers.

 

"Oh, shit." Lydia unknowingly echoes Stiles from the passenger seat of Allison's car.

"What?" Kira squeaks, throwing herself from the backseat to the center console to get a better view. 

"Why is it always us having to save their asses?" Malia mutters as they watch them being pushed into the room by the men that have them at gun point. 

"Because they're men," Allison comments as she cocks her gun. "Let's go." 

 

"What are you doing here?" Sam demands in a husky voice. 

"Ok, Scully. Relax." Stiles chaffs with his hands raised in surrender. Scott gives him a look that he can instant translate to 'Really, Stiles? You think now it is a good time for sarcasm?'. He knows he's right, especially when he's eyes level with the barrel of a gun. But he truly could not help himself. The joke was too easy. 

Dean huffs a small laugh out of his nose. Sam gives him a irritated glare. "What? I've made that joke before… and it's still funny." He laughs again. 

"I'm not Scully." Sam argues. "You're Scully." 

"No, we've been over this. You're Scully. I'm clearly Mudler." 

"These guys are hunters?" Isaac turns slowly to Argent. He's entirely unconvinced. "The two fighting over who's which X-Files character?" 

The two hunters quickly snap out of it and refocus on the invaders. 

"How do you know we're hunters?" Dean barks, pointing his gun at Isaac. 

"God, I wish you stayed in the car." Argent groans. 

"You don’t want me to have to ask again." Dean pushes. He fires a few warning shots at the wall behind them. 

"I knew John." Argent quickly shouts in reply. 

"What?" Sam asks, his voice suddenly much higher in pitch. 

Both of them are clearly thrown off by the statement. 

"John Winchester." Argent clarifies. "I'm assuming you're his boys." When they both just blink at him he continues. "Sam, and uh, Dean… right?" 

"Right." Dean says shortly, still not trusting the stranger. 

"My names Chris." He nods. "Chris Argent." 

"Argent?" Sam glances to Dean, recalling their conversation about the infamous family of hunters. 

"I'm assuming your dad may have mentioned the name." Argent says, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah, maybe once or twice." Dean returns, slowly lowering his gun. Sam follows suite. "How'd you know it was us?" 

"The kids mentioned FBI agents rolling into town in a black impala. I took a guess." Argent explains. "Your dad loved that car." 

"Yeah," Dean smiles tightly. "He-"

Suddenly the room's door is being kicked in. Allison bursts in with Malia by her side, teeth snarling and claws extended. Both prepared for a fight. 

"Oh, great." Argent sighs as the calm recognition of the room quickly vanishes. Sam and Dean raise their guns at the newcomers. 

"You're out gunned." Allison boasts, pointing her gun at Dean. "That's a cult army model 44 caliber 6 shot. I've got a glock 9 millimeter with 2 extra clips. And by my count you only have 3 shots left." Dean raises a brow at her, slightly impressed. Argent is nearly bursting with pride. "Not to mention, I have them." She adds, nodding toward Malia. 

Dean is confused by her use of the word "them" until he hears a low growl behind him. He turns to see two of the boys also have exposed teeth and sharp claws. Werewolves. 

"I would lower the guns if I were you." 

"Scott…" Argent warns.

"Clearly your friend here hasn’t told you much about us." Dean states, nudging his head toward Argent and smirking at Scott. "We don’t give up that easy. Do we, Sammy?" Sam shakes his head. "I have to say Argent," Deans spits out. "I was impressed by the stories about you and shocked the hear that you let things get so out of hand in Beacon Hills…. But now I get it. You're running with the wolves." Dean wears a face of pure disgust. 

"Well, actually-" Argent starts before Isaac cuts him off. 

"Argent isn't the protector of Beacon Hills. Scott is." He corrects. "Well, all of us. But, yeah, mostly Scott." 

"God Lahey, do you ever know when to shut up?" Stiles grumbles. 

"No, I mean- well, yeah! But not right now. Not when these guys are treating us like the bad guys when we are the one thing standing in way of Beacon Hills and totally destruction. I mean I don't risk my life for this town, constantly, to have a gun pointed in my face by two wannabe feds in hand-me-down thrift store suits."

"Ok. Quit while you're ahead, pal." Stiles advises. 

"Yeah, that's enough." Lydia chimes in, suddenly appearing in the door way with Kira not far behind. 

"Lydia" Dean and Stiles speak in unison, although Dean's tone is more questioning while Stiles' is a soft sigh. Stiles can't help but be annoyed. Something about her name coming from his mouth didn't sit well with him. That and he had begged her to stay in the car. Clearly she didn’t care that either of those things bothered him. 

Sam's eyes dance frantically around the room. "Does someone want to explain what THE hell is going on here?" 

 

____________________

 

"So…basically, you're saying that every time we didn't hear about something going down in Beacon Hills it was because of you guys." Sam gestures toward the group in front of him. 

"yes, basically." Scott confirms from his spot on the floor. After about thirty minutes of promising that they weren't going to attack each other, they had all settled into scattered spots around the room to talk. 

"Werewolf?" Dean asks pointing at Isaac. He nods. Dean points at Malia. "Werewolf?"

"Werecoyote." She corrects. 

"Yeah, alright. Didn't know that was a thing." He says blankly but a little excitement shows in his features. He then gives Lydia a questioning look. 

"Banshee." She states, ready to explain what that means. 

"Really?" Sam cuts in, doubt coloring his features. Dean wears a similar expression. 

"Yes, really." Stiles snaps, always ready to defend her. 

"It's just that," Sam starts hesitantly. "every banshee we've ever dealt with has been, uh-" 

"Nothing like you." Dean finishes, eyeing her with confused expression. He decides to move on rather than hurt his brain anymore. "Werewolf?" He asks Scott. 

"He's our alpha." Malia counters before Scott can even open his mouth. "And she's a kitsune." She adds pointing to Kira, seemingly over this guessing game. "They're hunters, but I assumed you already knew that." 

"I did." Dean confirms. "An Argent as well?" He asks, eyeing Allison. She nods.

"My daughter." Argent gushes. 

"And you two work with them?" Dean questions, brows furrowed. "Hunters and werewolves? Well, werewolves and company." He nearly laughs at the notion. 

"It wasn't always the case." Argent clarifies. 

"Things were rough in the beginning," Allison explains. "My dad almost killed Scott, on multiple occasions." She laughs lightly. "But then it became clear that we had bigger problems on our hands and that we had a common goal." She grabs Scott hand. "Protecting Beacon Hills." 

Sam watches Scott squeeze Allison's hand and look down at her lovingly. Then it all makes sense. It's admittedly very Romeo and Juliet but it makes sense. 

Dean laughs humorlessly. "It's going to take a few minutes for me to wrap my mind around all this." He says, leaning his head back against the bed frame. 

"Don’t hurt yourself, big boy." Stiles scoffs. 

"I'm sorry," Dean shoots up. "And what exactly are you?"

Stiles stays silent, squinting at him. 

"For a while he was possessed by an evil spirit." Isaac pipes up. 

"Shut up, Isaac." The pack choirs. 

"What? It's true!" He defends. 

"Possessions." Dean relents. "We know all about those." 

"You do?" Lydia marvels. 

"Yeah.. But that’s a story for another time." He leans his head back again. 

"So do you guys know who's behind the attacks in town?" Sam asks, also desperate to change the subject. 

"No, not yet." Scott sighs. "We just got back in town. We're trying to put the pieces together." 

"Back in town?" Sam asks. 

"Yeah, back from college." He clarifies. "Spring break." He shrugs. 

Dean springs back up. "College?" He shutters. "What grade?" His eyes widening as he looks at Lydia. 

"Sophomores!" Bubbles Kira, completely aloof to the awkwardness of the current situation. 

"Which makes you what? 19?" Dean implores. 

"20." Lydia corrects. 

"Underage drinking is illegal." He remarks. 

"Not as illegal as impersonating a federal agent." Lydia returns with a challenging brow and folded arms. 

"Touché." Dean smiles. He likes her. 

"What do you know?" Stiles questions, attempting to get back on topic and break up whatever the hell that little flirtation just was. "Did you get anything out of the third victim?"

"We couldn't get much out of him." Sam replies tiredly. "He was in shock and they had him on a lot of medication. He did mention seeing some kind of big black dog though." 

"Yeah, so we've heard…" Stiles eyes flicker back to Dean, who's eyes are still roaming over Lydia's frame. 

"Any theories?" Sam asks, regaining his attention. 

Stiles opens his mouth to answer as Allison interjects, "We were thinking a possible rogue werewolf, probably going through transition. Not much control. But we don't have much to go on." She deflates. 

"That would explain the brutality of the attacks." Sam agrees, pondering the thought. "Maybe we should split up and see what else we can find out." 

"Are you suggesting we," Allison looks from Sam to Scott puzzlingly. "work together?" 

Sam smiles at the couple. "Well, we do have a common goal, right?" 

 

____________________


	5. Harsh Implications

Stiles drums his fingers against the pile of dusty books in front of him, his knee bounces anxiously under the table.

 The group had split up. Scott, Argent and Dean went to the hospital. Scott and Dean to visit the third victim, get as much information out of him as possible. While Argent finds Melissa to gain access to the morgue. Allison, Isaac, Kira and Malia went to the high school to ask around about the victims, see if there’s a pattern. Leaving Stiles, Lydia and Sam (because Dean had insisted he was the “king of research”, to which Stiles had promptly rolled his eyes) to research at the library.  

Stiles watches Lydia as her eyes skim the bestiary. The silence between them is broken when her phone dings with a new message. “Weird…" She drawls, raising her eyes to him. "Argent says the livers from the first two victims, uh Hannah and Nathaniel." She quickly corrects, feeling guilty for referring to them only as victims. "Their livers are missing.” 

“There’s a ton lore on werewolves eating their victims' organs, Lydia.” Stiles says, dismissing the thought. “I’m assuming especially so if said werewolf is on an uncontrollable violent rampage.” 

“That’s the thing." Lydia starts, trying to ignore his passive aggressive tone. "Melissa said it was removed with near surgical procession. No other organs were harmed.” Lydia adds, regaining Stiles attention. “Does that sound like a werewolf on a uncontrollable violent rampage to you?” She asks with raised brow. 

“No,” he admits. “It doesn’t.” He huffs in frustration. They fall back into silence, Lydia returning to reading and Stiles to bouncing his knee. 

“What?” Lydia breaks out after Stiles’ fourth drawn out sigh. 

“What?” He repeats.

“Stiles…” She returns tiredly. “For starters, you won’t stop sighing. And you’ve been acting weird. Weirder than usual. What’s up?” 

“Nothing.” He shrugs, opening a book and absentmindedly flipping through it. 

“No, something.” She insists, reaching over to slam the book shut. “Tell me.”   
   
“Fine, you wanna talk? Let’s talk.” Stiles says leaning forward to talk in an hushed, yet annoyed, tone. “I saw you this morning.” 

“Saw me what?” She asks, thrown by the angry in his voice. 

“With Dean.” 

“Ok...” She starts cautiously. She has a feeling this conversation isn’t headed in a positive direction. “And?” 

“Oh, c’mon Lydia. He brought you a coffee!” He shouts, earning him a few ‘shh’es from some other library occupants. Their complaints and Lydia’s scoffing does not deter him from continuing. “He drove you home last night. And you can’t lie and say you haven’t been flirting back whenever he's clearly hitting on you. Everyone has noticed.” 

She shakes her head wanting him to stop so she can clarify things. But he continues. 

“You knew where he was staying for Christ’s sake.” He flails.

“What exactly are you insinuating, Stiles?” She scoffs, her face hot from the implied accusation. 

He barely takes a breath before spitting out. “I mean, you’ve always had shitty taste in men-” 

She shutters from the harshness of his words. She no longer feels the need to explain herself. Now she’s angry. 

”-but Dean though, seriously? The hunter that nearly blew our brains out right when he met us? We aren’t even sure if we can trust him enough to figure out what’s going on in town and you- the two of you- you are-" He stammers. "You are making a huge mistake, Lydia.” He finally concludes with a huff. 

No, she’s not angry. She’s fuming. 

“What I do and who I do it with is none of your god damn business.” She barks back, her vision nearly red with anger. She clinches her fists and shallows the words 'you made sure of that a long time ago'. 

There’s a moment of tense silence before Sam appears in her peripheral.   
   
“Hey, so...” Sam starts as he walks toward their table. He hesitates noting the obvious anger in both their eyes. “Uh, Dean just sent me an address.” Stiles slumps low in his chair with the sound of his name. “He said for us to meet him there.” He hands off his phone to Lydia with a shrug. “Look familiar?” 

“That’s Derek’s loft.”

 

 

____________________

 

 

8 hours earlier, Sam and Dean's Motel Room:

 

Allison's eyes widened as she looks at her wrist watch. "It's almost 1:30." Allison yawns, nudging Scott in the arm. 

"Yeah," He sighs tiredly. "It’s probably best to call in a night and regroup in the morning." 

"Sounds like a plan." Sam nods. 

Scott and Sam exchange phone numbers, and agree on a meeting place in the morning. The rest of the pack starts to filter out of the room. 

"Allison, I got Lydia, Scott and Isaac." Stiles says as he makes his way to the jeep. "You got your Dad, Kira and Malia?" She nods. 

"Actually, Lydia…" Dean catches her elbow as she goes to follow Stiles. "I wanted to talk to you. You mind if I drive you home?" 

She nods in agreement. "I'll see you guys in the morning." She waves to her friends.

Stiles bites back a groan as he watches Dean's hand on the small of her back as he guides her to the impala. He, however, can't stop himself from slamming his door with more force than necessary. 

"You good?" Isaac asks, smirking knowingly in the back seat. 

"Shut up, Isaac." Stiles grumbles as he throws the jeep in reverse and peels out of the parking lot. 

 

"Turn left here." Lydia instructs as the impala edges the end of the parking lot. She tries to read his expression in the bright light of the motel's neon sign. "What did you want to talk to me about?" Lydia asks, suddenly feeling tense with nerves. 

“Everything,” Dean breathes. “Everything that was said back there. Everything that wasn’t.” He explains calmly. “But first you lied to me!” 

“Okay, Agent.” She returns with challenging brow.

“Alright, I guess we both made up different lives for ourselves.” He concedes. “But yours was so believable. Is there any part of it that wasn’t a lie?” 

“I didn’t lie.” Lydia retorts. Dean mirrors her arched brow. “Ok, well except for my age and that I’ve graduated already. But I’ll be graduating in May.” 

Dean still wears a exigent expression. "Yes...May two years from now.” 

“No, this year. I started as a junior.” She explains.

“You started MIT as a junior?” He gapes, shock apparent in his features. 

She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“Wow. And I thought Sammy was smart because he went to Stanford but you blow him completely out of the water. ” 

It's Lydia's turn to be shocked. “Sam went to Stanford?” 

“Yeah, until I dragged him away.” He stares at the road, his eyes suddenly clouded with guilt. “Our dad was missing and I needed him." He pauses. "I still need him." He admits, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Sam's the smart one. The one with the answers. He always figures things out. I don’t know where I’d be without him.” 

“I know the feeling.” Lydia sighs, her eyes also focusing on the road. 

“You mean,” Dean turns to examine her expression. "with Stiles."

“What?” She asks, her pitch much higher than she had intended. She clears her throat. “Uh, turn here.” She points to the intersection. 

Dean lets out a small laugh, finding the bashful shade in her cheeks completely endearing. “C'mon. There’s obviously some history there.” Lydia silently shakes her head. “You mean to tell me nothing has ever happened between the two of you?” 

“Can you we please change the subject.” She smiles, tight lipped.

Dean notes her abrupt change in attitude and complies, not wanting to push her. The car is silent for a few moments. “Can I change the subject to the fact that you’re a freaking banshee?”

“Sure.” She huffs, her smile now more genuine. “But fair warning, it’s kind of a long story.” 

She spends the rest of the ride explaining how Scott was turned by Peter and how, at the time, she was completely unaware of the dark side of Beacon Hills. That was until the night of winter formal. She told him about Peter biting her on the lacrosse field, hospitalizing her. But instead of the bite killing her or turning her, it brought forth her banshee powers. She explained how in the beginning she, like everyone else, had no idea what she was. She just started sleep walking or zoning out and then finding dead bodies. Then over the years she learned more about her abilities and how to use them in a fight. 

As they pull up to her house Dean puts the car in park, encouraging her to continue. She continues to talk about the challenges the pack have faced and the people they’ve lost. He listens very intensively, nodding in understanding as she speaks. 

“How did you get into hunting, Dean?” Lydia asks, tired of hearing her own voice. 

“Not by choice..” he laughs, humor lacking in his tone. He hesitates for a while averting his eyes from her. “My mom was killed when I was younger.” 

Suddenly, Stiles pops into her head. She's seen, through him, how losing a mother so young can affect someone. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She offers sincerely. 

“Thanks. It was a long time ago.” He returns quickly, trying to shrug off the emotion. “Anyway, my dad became kind of obsessed with tracking down the thing that did it. A demon. So he trekked me and Sam all around the country, job to job. From there it was sleazy motels and meals from vending machines. The high life." He jokes, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Then when I was old enough he taught me how to hunt, mostly to protect Sammy. That basically became my job, looking after him. Then when he was old enough, my dad taught him to hunt too.” 

Lydia feels a wave a guilt. She's constantly complaining about how the supernatural has plagued her life but at least she had a normal childhood. Not only did Dean lose his mother but he lost the innocence and simple bliss that comes with childhood. The supernatural robbed him for that.

“But Sam he wanted out of the life. So we went to Stanford. My dad wasn’t happy about that in the slightest, so they didn’t talk for him for a while. Which kind of lead to him and I not talking." 

She listens, trying to give him the same amount of focus and understanding that he gave her. 

"I think that was also partly because I was jealous of him though.” He admits, his grip shifting on the steering wheel. “Jealous that he got out, you know. He got to live a normal life. The kind of life I’ve never known. He went to school, had friends, a girlfriend...” He trails off, the guilt returning. “Then I ruined that by showing up to Stanford and asking for his help. At the time I didn’t care that I was disrupting his life. All I cared about was finding my dad. But then when we were gone, Jess...” He barely chokes out her name. 

Concern and curiosity light up Lydia's features.  

“Jessica, Sam’s girlfriend. She was killed by the same demon that killed our mom. Because of me, Sam wasn’t there to protect her.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “Who knows what Sam’s life could have been...” He trails off. 

“You can’t put that on yourself, Dean.” Lydia reassures. “Once the supernatural becomes a part of your life, I don’t think it’s possible to have a normal life. With everything we know, there is no going back.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. I guess that’s especially true with Sam.” 

“What do you mean?” She asks, her brows pinched together. 

“Well, it’s a really long and complicated story. So I'll give you the cliff notes version." He says, not because he doesn't think that she'll be able to follow but because he doesn’t really want to go into detail. "Sam was six months old when our mom was killed. The demon that did it had plans for Sam, like of the demonic kind.” 

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I’d rather not get into that right now. It gives me a headache. But Sam’s fine now and the demon’s dead. That’s what’s important. So I guess normal wasn't really in the cards for him but at six months old he-” He pinches the bridge of his nose, annoyed by his own rambling. “What I’m trying to say is Sam deserves a better life than this.” 

“So do you, Dean.” 

He smiles at her, warmed by the sincerity in her voice. “Do you ever wish you could go back?" She tilts her head at him. "Back to before you knew everything you do now. Back when your life was normal.” He explains. 

She ponders the thought for a few moments. “No, I don’t. Sure, there are parts of my life that I miss. Like being able to walk outside in the dark and not wonder if there’s some kind of demonic entity with a plot to kill me in the bushes.” She smiles when a chuckle forms low in Dean's throat. “But I was living a fake life before all of this. Pretending to be someone that I wasn’t, with friends that didn’t really care about me. The supernatural has brought a lot of dread into my life, there's no hiding that. But it also forced me to stop pretending, to be a more genuine version of myself. I showed me strength in myself that I didn’t even know was there. I have friends who would quite literally die for me and I would do the same for them, without hesitation. I have a lot of regrets but I’ll never regret the people we’ve been able to save. I wouldn’t take that back for one ounce of normal.” Dean smiles grows wider. “What?”

“You just sound like Sam. You remind me a lot of him, you know?” 

“I do?” 

“Yeah...” He smiles. "I just hope that this life doesn’t stop you from living your dreams like it did for him. Because I can tell, you are meant to do something extraordinary." 

She a little caught of guard by the sincerity in his voice and the kindest in his eyes. He is nothing at all like she had characterized him when she first saw him in the diner. She tries to hide her blush when he maintains eye contact. She says the first thing that pops into her mind. "What was Sam's dream? I mean.. What was he majoring in at Stanford."

"He was in law school, actually. Or about to be." 

Lydia can't help but burst out in laugher. "I'm sorry." She apologizes, slapping a hand over her mouth. "It's just a big jump. He was going to be a lawyer and now the two of you are impersonating a federal agents. I'm sorry, it’s not funny." 

The tension quickly melts from his faces. "No, no.." He chuckles. "It is pretty funny. I mean, I don’t really think about it because crime kind of goes hand and hand with the job. But Sammy," He laughs even harder. "I bet he's mentally tallied every single crime we've ever committed." 

"I guess the bright side is if you ever do get caught that he can advise whatever incompetent defense attorney you get stuck with." 

"We've been caught." Dean shrugs.

"Oh, you have?" Lydia almost laughs at his nonchalant attitude. 

"I'm better at breaking out of prison than El Capo." He boasted. 

The grin on Lydia's face grows twice in size. But when he winks she decides it's time for her to go before she does something stupid. "Goodnight, Shawshank." She teases as she reaches for the door handle. "I'll see you in," She checks the time. "ugh, five hours." 

"How do you take your coffee?" 

"What?" She asks, thrown by the abrupt question. 

"Your coffee. How do you take it?" He rewords with a smile. "Wait, no. let me guess." He cuts in. "You seem like a no bullshit kind of girl. I could tell when we first met, from your drink order at the bar. I'm going to guess," He squeezes his eyes shut in thought. "Hot drip coffee, black, two sugars?" 

He was right. That was one of her go to coffee orders. "Eye opener, extra shot, black, two sugars." She corrects, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right. She sends him a smirk over her shoulder as she walks up her front walk way. She closes the door behind her but waits for the sound of rumbling engine before she ascends the stairs and collapses into bed.


	6. Off a Cafeine High

“Derek, calm down.” Scott soothes. 

“Sour wolf.” Stiles smirks, earning him a scowl from the former alpha. But he keeps smiling, happy to see someone else is as annoyed by the hunters presence as he is. 

“What makes you think they can we trusted, Scott.” Derek snipes. “They’re hunters. And you bought them into my home!” 

“Argent’s a hunter.”  Scott shrugs.

“I’ve known Argent for years!” Derek argues. “For most of those years, he was trying to kill me! His sister lit my house on fire with most of my family inside!” 

Sam and Dean’s eyes widen at the new information. There’s a lot of dark history in this group. 

Derek eyes flip to Argent. “He is one of the very few hunters i trust, along with Allison.” 

“What about Braeden?” Isaac comments smugly. 

“Braeden’s a mercenary.” Lydia corrects quickly, trying to save him from Derek’s wrath.   

Derek releases a sigh and turns back to Scott. “But that trust wasn’t built over night. I don’t know them.” He waves an arm at Sam and Dean. 

“He has a point.” Argent admits, understanding Derek’s hesitance. 

“Look, I’m not expecting you to trust us.” Sam says breaking his silence. “But we are here to help.” 

“We won’t fire unless you give us a reason to.” Dean adds, not at all threatened by the werewolves tense eyes and flaring nostrils. 

“Seriously?” Sam whispers, nudging his arm. 

“You don’t have to trust them. Trust me.” Scott pleads. “Like it or not, they have experienced far more than us. They can help.” 

Derek eyes move from Scott to the two hunters. He eyes them wearily for a few moments. “Fine,” He concedes with an angry huff. “But try anything, I’ll rip your throat out.... with my teeth.” He warns. 

“Noted.” Sam nods. 

"Okay." Allison claps her hands together in attempt to break up the awkward tension. "Were you able to talk to Lukas?" She starts, looking between Scott and Dean. 

"Hmm.. Sort of." Scott returns. 

"Talk to is kind of a stretch." Dean adds. "Kid was higher than a Willie Nelson on Mount Everest." He chuckles, quickly glancing around the room to see if anyone else found his joke amusing. He's met with blank faces. 

"He still maintains his story that he saw a big dog, thought." Scott shrugs. "But the details were a little fuzzy." 

"On pain killers like those, I don’t know if that kid could tell the difference between a kangaroo and a penguin." Dean jokes. 

Stiles catches himself smiling, not at Dean's attempt at a joke but at a memory. Lydia ridiculous high on pain killers while he is sat at the foot of her bed. Her being so convinced that the giraffe stuff animal he had held up to her was a mountain lion. He raises his eyes toward her but she quickly turns away. He had nearly forgotten about their fight in the library. That memory swapped with a lighter one. For a moment, her hurt expression over his harsh words weren't playing in loop in his head. More than anything he wants to take them back. Pull her out of the room and apologize. But she won't even meet his eyes, so instead he bites down hard on his lip and shallows his words. 

"So I wouldn’t really say his recollection of what attacked him is one hundred percent reliable." 

Lydia quickly joins in. "What were his injuries exactly?"

"According to his chart, lacerations to the head and abdomen resulting in blood lose and-" Dean shuts his eyes, attempting to visualize the medical chart. "A concussion."

Lydia turns to Argent and raising her brow. He nods. 

"What?" Allison asks, looking between them. 

"It appears that whatever we're dealing with, is taking it's victims livers." Argent explains. "It seems like it was going after Lukas' as well." 

"It's not a werewolf." Lydia declares. 

"What made you jump to that conclusion?" Malia asks dryly. 

Before she can bite back a response, Dean cuts in. "This doesn't fit the usual werewolf profile." 

"At least none that we've ever seen." Sam concurs, looking up from photos that Argent took on his phone at the morgue. 

"And we're suppose to take your word for it, why?" Derek sneers. 

"You aren't." Sam returns. "But there isn't a single bite mark on any of the victims and most of the cuts seem to be clean, almost precise. Unlike claw marks." He hands the phone off to Derek so he can have a look for himself. "Odd for a werewolf attack, wouldn’t you say."

Derek simply tilts his head as he examines the photos. 

"These attacks," Lydia starts. "They're almost like something is trying to stage them to seem like a werewolf." 

"To throw us off their scent." Stiles chimes in. 

Lydia finally turns to face him. "Exactly." 

Stiles relishes in the very slight smile playing on her lips. But as quickly as she had turned to face him she's turning away. The loss of her eyes makes him feel cold again.

 

 

_____________________

 

 

"I had a feeling that you'd be here." 

Lydia glances up from her laptop as Dean slides into the empty side of the booth she's seated at. She gives him a quick half smile before her eyes return to the screen. 

"Would you like another cup?" The waitress asks as she returns to the table with a pot of coffee in hand. 

"Yes, please." Lydia pleads. "Thank you, Helen." She beams as the steam rises from her mug. 

"Sure thing, sweetie." The elderly women winks at her before turning to Dean. "Can I get you anything, Handsome?"

"No, I'm okay for now. Thank you." He smiles as he slugs off his jacket.

"Isn't it spring break? Shouldn't you be out having some fun with your usual partners in crime?" Helen inquires as she looks back at the girl typing furiously on her keyboard. 

Lydia shrugs, halting her speeding fingers. "I've got some school work to catch up on so," She lies, figuring it's easier than the truth of the endless web searches of gruesome folk lore.

"Well don't work too hard. It's called a break for a reason." She brushes Lydia's arm before she leaves to help a table of incoming teens. 

"She has a point, you know." 

Lydia shrugs off the statement and continues typing. 

"How many cups have you had?" Dean nods toward her mug.

"Four." Lydia professes. "What?" She frowns at his sympathetic eyes. 

"You should really get some sleep." 

"No, I- No." She shakes her head a little too forcefully. Ok, so maybe she was a little delirious. "I swear it's like it's on the tip of my tongue but haven’t quite gotten there yet. I would usually have the answer by now. It’s just not the same without S-" She bites her lip.

"Stiles." He finishes for her. 

She sucks in a breath and quickly changes the subject as if she hadn't heard him. "I'm almost there. I can't stop now." She declares. 

"Lyd-" 

"Did you and Sam find anything at the crime scenes?" She cuts him off hearing the slight pity in his tone. She doesn’t have time for that. 

"Nothing useful, no." He sighs. "We went over to the station with Scott to meet with the Sheriff to go over some files from the case, and cases in recent history."

"And?" She jumps. Maybe the fourth cup wasn't such a great idea. 

"You were right. There are clear differences between any previously filed werewolf attack- or should I say 'animal attacks' like the police department does-" he smirks. "and these attacks." 

"Did Scott mention if he heard back from Deaton yet?"

Dean nods. "He said to meet him at the clinic in the morning." Lydia mimics his nod and returns to typing. "Sam and I also have a friend of ours, Bobby, looking into it. He has lore on practically everything under the sun. He said he would give us a shout if he found anything." He explains. "But for now-" He leans over to shut her laptop.

Lydia shoots him a very disgruntled glare, attempting to reopen it. 

But he keeps a firm hand on it's smooth cover. "You need a break." 

She frowns. "I need to call Scott." She blurts, taking her phone out of her purse. Dean is quick to snatch the device from her hand. "Dean," She warns.  
"I'm serious." 

"I'm serious." He returns in the same tone. 

Her face scrunches up in aggravation. "Can't I just check in on my friend to see what he's doing?" 

"Scott is with Sam." 

"Oh, that clears everything up! Thank you so much!" She chimes with mock contentment. He smirks, seemingly finding amusement in her annoyance. Which of course only makes her more annoyed. "And what are Scott and Sam doing?" 

"When we got to the station, Stiles was there. But he practically ran out of the place saying he had research to do. Scott wanted to check on him." He pauses, watching the emotion in her eyes change. "Uh, to see if he'd made any progress. Sam figured he could help." He shrugs. "I came to find you."

"Why?" She asks, her tone void of indignation but full of honest curiosity.

"I wanted to check on you too." 

"Why?" She repeats, this time forging ignorance. 

"Sam told me it seemed like you and Stiles got into a argument at the library." He explains.

"Oh." She knew it was coming but her throat still tightens. 

"And the tension between you two back at the loft made it clear that something happened." 

She absentmindedly circles the back of her spoon around the rim of her mug, while conveniently avoiding his eyes. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

"Not particularly, no." She returns, taking a sip of her now lukewarm coffee. She really wasn't interested in drinking in anymore but it was a better than the alternative, talking about her feelings. 

"I know what you're doing, you know. You're throwing yourself into research, overworking yourself, to avoid dealing with whatever is going on between the two of you." Dean divulges. "I know that move well. That's my move. I will take on case after case until I'm running on fumes, just to distract myself from my own issues." 

"That's not what I'm doing." Lydia deflects, taking another sip. 

"Lydia," Dean slides the cup from her grip. "Saying this makes me an enormous hypocrite but," He sighs, trying to channel his inter Sam. "Talking about it may make you feel better." He nearly gags on his own words. 

Her eyes survey his face, the apprehension clear in her eyes.

"Or at least help you think clearer. Because you aren't helping anyone like this." 

"Fine." She concedes, knowing he won’t give her laptop back until she does. "But I'm not even sure where to start." 

"Well, why don't you start with what happened at the library." Dean suggests. 

She rubs her temples. She really didn't want to revisit that fight. "I could tell that something had been bothering him," She starts slowly. "and he wouldn't stop sighing while I was trying to focus. Like these long overdramatic sighs. Ugh, It was so irritating." 

Dean has to rap his fingers around his chin, like he is pondering something, to hide his smile. 

"It was annoyingly clear that he wanted to get something off his chest. But when I asked him what was wrong, he said nothing. But I know Stiles and I knew that he would keep acting that way until I got the truth out of him. So I pushed him to talk." She was aware that she was kind of rambling but she wanted to get this over with quickly. "Then he more than implied that you and I-" she wags her finger between them. "-were sleeping together." She pauses, waiting to see his reaction. He seems rather unfazed, so she continues. "He judged my taste in men. Treated me like I'm some dumb teenage girl with clouded judgement, who can’t tell right from wrong. Like I'm not even smart enough to be making my own decisions." 

Dean remains silent. 

She folds her arms and huffs. "And here I am scrolling endlessly through website after website, book after book, trying to figure out what we're dealing with and how to stop it- and all I can think about is how much easier it would be if he was here helping me, if we were working together like we always do. But I'm so mad at him. The things he said hurt me." She admits, tightening her arms around her waist. "I've had people say far worse things to me. But those hurt worse because it's Stiles." 

"Can I play devils advocate here?" Dean pipes up after a few moments of silence. 

She squints at him questioningly but nods, her curiosity trumping her anger. 

"I don’t think he meant a single word he said." Dean discloses. "I mean, he probably meant any negative thing he said about me. The kid does not like me, that obvious." Dean chuckles. "But there's a reason for that. Just like there's a reason why he said those things." 

Lydia just blinks at him, not at all swayed by his words. 

"Look," Dean leans forward. "Stiles was clearly upset. He said things out of anger, things he didn't mean. Everyone has moments. Especially when you're young." He hesitates, unsure if he should say his next words. "Especially when it comes to love."

Lydia sucks in a shallow breath before quickly covering it with a laugh. "Stiles doesn’t love me." 

Dean raises his brow at her, dubiously. 

"He doesn’t!" She defends. "Not like that at least." She mumbles. 

"Lydia, I've only known you both for a few days and I can say, very confidently, that boy loves you." Dean smiles. "I could tell the night we first met- at the bar. The way he was glaring at me for even talking to you. And every time since- if I joke with you or get to close to you or even look at you, I see him in my peripheral vision. It’s like he's convinced if he glares at me hard enough that he'll acquire laser vison and turn me to ash." He laughs lightheartedly. "I gotta give it to the kid, he does have a pretty solid dead stare." 

"That just Stiles." She smiles despite herself, but quickly hides it from Dean's scrutinizing eyes. "He's naturally distrusting of new people." That’s my Stiles, she thinks but is quickly hit hard with the realization that he's not hers. At least not in the way she wants him to be.

"You can try to deny it all you want but me and I'm pretty sure your entire- what does Scott call you guys again?" 

"His pack." 

"Right!" Dean snaps. "The whole pack knows how he feels about you too. Seems like the only one who doesn't see it is you." He reaches forward to snag Lydia's full glass of water. "And they say you're the smart one." He adds, purposely trying to bait her. He hides his smile with the rim of the glass when she scowls at him. 

"You have a very clear perception on the topic that you don’t have all the facts to, Agent." She shoots back, her nose turned up at him.

"Enlighten me then." He challenges.


	7. It's History

"Stiles?" Scott calls up the stairwell of the Stilinski household. 

"You guys just keep your doors unlocked? In a town like this? With everything that you guys know?" Sam implores, his eyes comically wide. 

"I'll admit," Scott turns his head to the hunter. "Not our smartest move." He waves for Sam to follow as he ascends the stairs. "Stiles?" He taps his knuckles lightly against the cracked bedroom door. He pushes the door open to discover his best friend slumped in his desk chair, face illuminated by his bright computer screen. "Dude, did you not hear me calling you?" 

Stiles just grunts in return, not even bothering to raise his eyes to the room's newest occupants. 

Scott turns his head to look at Sam. He just gives him a unassertive shrug. 

"Stiles?" He repeats, stepping further into the room. 

Stiles hands collide with the hard word of his desk with a loud thud. "It's pointless." He grunts. 

Scott and Sam both flinch at his sudden outburst. "What is?" Sam asks, hesitantly. 

Stiles raises his eyes only to squint at the owner of the foreign voice. "What are you doing here, you- you- BIG TREE?" 

It isn’t until Scott watches Stiles' flailing arms that he notices that bottle of brown liquor on the desk. One sniff of the air confirms his suspicions- Jack Daniels. 

Sam opens and closes his mouth. "I'd take it research isn't going well." Scott cuts in to save him. 

"Nope." He returns with an extra pop of the 'p'. "I can’t crack it. All this research is pointless without-" He cuts himself off, replacing the words with a drag from the bottle to his left.

"Okayyy." Scott peals the bottle from his grasp. "That's enough of that."  
Stiles whines in protest. "Why are you drinking anyway?" Scott asks, concern glossing his tone. "How is that helping?" 

"It helps, Scott, by getting me to stop thinking about uh- certain things." He attempts to reach for the bottle. "and helps me to focus on other things, like research and answers…and- stuff." 

Scott smiles at his weak attempt to stretch to reach the bottle as he holds it over his head. All he has to do is stand, but instead he quits and pouts. "What certain things are you trying not to focus on?" 

"I think he means more like," Sam chimes in from the doorway. "a certain red head."

"Her hair is actually strawberry blonde." Stiles blurts out without a second thought. 

Sam nods knowingly. "This is about the fight you had in the library, isn’t it?" 

"You got into a fight with Lydia?" Scott nearly gasps. He was usually more perceptive to things going on within the pack. 

"No." Stiles defends. "No, I- it's not- No." He stutters, very aware of the increase of his pulse. He knows Scott is very aware as well. He also knows he is doing nothing but further incriminating himself. "Where's your worse half?" Stiles deflects with a point to the hunter leaning against the doorframe. 

"Dean? He uh-" Sam scratches his stubble awkwardly, not sure if he should give a truthful answer. As Stiles stares at him expectantly, his mind goes completely blank of a believable lie. "He uh, He went to go check on Lydia." 

Stiles bites hard on his bottom lip and fights the urge to punch his desk, again. "Of course he did." He laughs humorlessly. 

Scott takes a moment to examine his best friend. "Is that what your fight was about? Dean?" Stiles remains silent. "Because you're jealous?" 

"Of course I'm jealous, Scott! It's Lydia!" Stiles explodes. And with one look at Scott's pity-filled eyes, he really wished he hadn’t. And he really, really wished he hadn’t had those shots of whiskey. It was like truth serum. He didn't like it. He sighs as Scott settles on the edge of his bed. He knows a classic alpha heart to heart is coming. 

He wonders if his ankles would snap if he attempted to jump out of the window right now. If he did it, would he able to run away? He wants to. Run away from this conversation. Run away from his feelings. 

"Stiles-" 

"I know, I know. She's my friend and I'm an idiot for still feeling this way about her and-" He raises from his chair and begins to pace. 

"That's not at all what-" Scott tries to cut in but Stiles continues to ramble. 

"It's getting pathetic that we're in college now and I'm still pining over the same girl I have been since the third grade and it’s time to move on and I-" 

"Stiles!" Scott shouts at him, effectively hauling his movements. "I wasn't going to say any of that." 

"I can't get her out of my head, Scott." He deflates.

Scott gives him a sad smile. "I know." 

Stiles plops back down in his chair, the wheels slightly pushing it back on impact. "I mean, I think about her constantly. She's my first thought in the morning and my last thought when I go to bed. When I'm in class I'm thinking about how if she was there she'd be making everyone- even the professor- feel inadequate."

As a small smirk begins to form at the corner of his mouth, Scott can’t help a smile from creeping onto his own lips. He always loved seeing how his best friend's eyes light up when he talks about Lydia. 

"When I'm studying I'm thinking about how she'd be mindlessly braiding her hair to perfection and scolding me for biting my nails. When my friends drag me out to parties, I can hear her voice in the back of my head judging people's mismatching outfits. And if I'm being completely honest, it's the only time throughout the night that my smile is genuine." He rubs his hands over his face in frustration. Affectively covering his eyes from his best friends' reaction to his oversharing. 

Sam breaks his silence, unable to remain uninvolved. "Have you told her?" He asks, settling in an empty spot on the bed beside Scott. He's expecting some kind of snide comment but when Stiles removes his hands from his face, he just looks tired. 

"She knows how I feel." 

 

__________

 

"I have no idea how he feels." 

Dean raises a challenging brow at her. "C'mon, Lydia.."

"I'm being serious! I don't!" She defends, but his doubtful expression doesn’t wavier. "I used to. Now I'm really not sure." She mutters. 

"Okay," Dean nods slowly, still perplexed to how she doesn’t notice how the boy looks at her. "How did he use to feel about you then?" 

She thinks for a moment, unsure where to start. "So, sophomore year- at the winter formal actually," Lydia's lip immediately twitches as the memories come flooding in. "I was miserable because my boyfriend- ex boyfriend, Jackson- was there with Allison and he wouldn't even acknowledge me."

"Sounds like a douchebag." Dean notes. 

"You have no idea." She laughs. "But whatever, that isn't the point. The point is that I was miserable but Stiles was there saying all these sweet things to me, like that he thought I loved beautiful. And then he went on this adorable rant-" Lydia pushes against her cheeks, feeling herself blushing. "-about how he'd had a crush on me since the third grade and how he was the only one that knew how smart I really was." She pauses, realizing she needs to had some context. "I used to dumb myself down a lot because I thought my intelligence would affect my popularity." She rolls her eyes thinking about the priorities of her sixteen year old self. "Anyway, he basically told me he saw through my façade. Which actually really threw me. I wasn't used for someone caring enough to notice." Her cheeks heat up again when she realizes she's oversharing. She not sure why, but she can't stop herself. She blames the lack of sleep and overindulgence of caffeine. 

"Hold on.. Is this the same winter formal you were talking about the other night? The one where you were attacked?" Dean implores. Lydia nods. "You went with Stiles?"

She nods again. "I was originally suppose to go with a guy from the swim team but Allison made me cancel on him and go with Stiles instead. She said it would be my way of making it up to her after some, uh let’s say some terrible decision making on my part." She cringes. Dean simply nods along, not daring to push the subject. "But yes, Stiles was my date that night. God, how different things could have been." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, if I hadn't been so focused on Jackson I wouldn’t have ended up on the lacrosse field in the first place. If I hadn't been so persistent on knowing where he was all night and actually given Stiles the time of day, like he deserved, I wouldn’t have been outside looking for him. I wouldn’t have been bitten." 

"It’s easy to get caught up in the what if's," Dean starts, after a heavy pause. "But it's ultimately useless. You can’t change the past." 

"I really wish you could thought." She returns. He grunts in agreement. "I had a guy right in front of me telling me exactly how he felt and I blew him off to chase someone who could not have cared less." She laughs dryly. "What's wrong with me?" She sighs, her eyes drifting to the dark sky visible in the window to her right. 

Dean takes the opportunity to wave the waitress over. He could sense this conversation was far from over. He was going to need some food. As the older woman jots down his order and exits back to the kitchen, he returns his attention back to the troubled strawberry blonde. However, when he opens his mouth to speak Lydia cuts him off. 

"You know what makes that situation even worse?" She asks, barely giving him a chance to shake his head before answering. "It's how understanding he was about the whole thing. He wasn't angry with me even though he had every right to be." She thinks at this point she's mostly just talking to herself. But she can’t stop herself. It feels too good, getting everything out instead of keeping it so bottled up. "God, I was so selfish. Months later when a bunch of shit was going on with Jackson-" Dean can tell by her eyes that she doesn’t even want to dip her toe into the details of that story. "-I went to Stiles to vent. I knew how he felt about me but I just needed someone to make me feel better. I didn’t even consider how that would make him feel." 

 

___________

 

"Which made me feel terrible, of course." Stiles admits. "But I wanted to be there for her. More than anything, I wanted to be there for her. To comfort her, support her. I wanted to be her friend because other than Allison she didn’t have many good ones. I just," Stiles sighs. "I just wanted to be there for her." He shrugs, trying to downplay the emotional attachment of his words. 

"And she just wanted to help Jackson?" Sam asks, immediately cringing at how insensitive his words spill out. He sends Stiles an apologetic smile, which he thankfully accepts. 

"Yeah," He confirms with another sigh. "And anyone that knows Lydia will tell you how ridiculously stubborn she is." 

"Pot, meet kettle." Scott mutters under his breath.

Stiles scowls at him before continuing. "I completely understood where she was coming from. But she was being reckless, not caring about her own safety. I was frustrated and I yelled at her for it." He leans back in his chair. "That seems to be a pattern of mine." He grumbles, internally scolding himself. 

"Then what happened?" Sam asks, not realizing how truly invested he was in the story until that moment. For some reason, he wanted to know it all. He wanted to help. Help lift some of the weight that was clearly on the boys shoulders, and even more so- in his heart. 

When Stiles is too busy frustratingly rubbing his face, Scott fills in the blanks.  
"Uh, Jackson was bitten and he turned. Then sophomore year ended and he moved away to London." Scott simplifies, trying to rush to the important parts- the Stiles and Lydia parts. "For the most part, the group we had formed at that point had spent the summer apart. Aside from Stiles, I hadn’t seen anyone else until-"

"The deer ran into Lydia's car." Stiles cuts him, his voice muffled by the hands that still covered his face. 

Sam gives Scott a confused look. 

"Uh, yeah there was some weird stuff going on with the animals in Beacon Hills. Deer, birds-- which we later found out was due to the presence of a dark druid. And we were also dealing with an Alpha pack." Sam's eyes widen at the new information. His mind runs wild with questions. He makes a mental note to ask them later. "Yeah, so suffice to say- we had our hands full." 

"So, that's why nothing happened between you and Lydia? There was too much doing on." Sam nods at Stiles, thinking he finally understands. 

"No," Stiles laughs shortly and uncovers his face. "There were many reasons but a big reason was," He swallows hard before spitting out the next name like it’s leaving a bad taste in his mouth. "Aiden." 

 

___________

 

"Who's Aiden?" Dean cuts in, bemused by her lack of introduction of this new character in the story. 

"Aiden was, uh-" She tucks her bottom lip into her mouth and draws in a long breath. "Aiden was my distraction." She pinches the bridge of her nose, guilty filling her instantly. "That sounds terrible." She admits, struggling to find a better way to describe what he was to her. "But that's all it was really suppose to be. A way for me to distract myself from everything that was going on, from Jackson leaving, from the feelings I was developing for Stiles." Her breath shutters slightly at the admission. That even back then, she had feelings for him. "So Aiden and I had a, little fling for a while."

"Until?" Dean inquires, sensing it coming. 

"Until I had this kind of, epiphany. Of what I wanted for myself. I knew what kind of guy Jackson was. I realized what kind of guy Aiden was. And I didn’t want that for myself anymore. I didn’t want to be with the bad guys. Not anymore." 

"You mean that you wanted the kind of guy that thinks you look beautiful when you cry and would literally go out of his freakin' mind if you died?" 

Lydia balls up her napkin and throws it at him, only causing his playful smirk to break into a wide smile. "If I knew you were going to use any of this against me, I would've have told you!" 

He tries his best to sniffle his laugher. "I'm sorry." He surrenders. "It won't happen again." She squints her eyes at him skeptically. "I promise." He traces a cross over his heart with his heart. "Please, continue." 

After a few moments of hesitation, she caves. "So as I was saying," she huffs. He smiles sweetly at her, trying to get back on her good side. It's only successful in making her rolls her eyes. "I started to distance myself from Aiden and then-" She stops, swallowing thickly. 

"Then?" Dean raises his brows expectantly. 

"I kissed Stiles." 

 

__________

 

"She kissed you!?" Sam and Scott clamor in unison.

For a passing moment Stiles is offended by the stress they put on both the word 'she' and 'you'. But he quickly shrugs it off, he wouldn't believe it either. For a long time, he didn't. He thought it must have been a dream. God knows, She had starred in many of those over the years.

Sam turns his head to the alpha, his face twisted in confusion. He figured that he would've known something like that. 

Scott looks between Stiles and Sam, his mouth agape and his eyes wide with shock. "Why didn't you tell me?" Scott demands now solely facing his best friend. 

Stiles can’t help but feel guilty over the small amount of hurt coloring Scott's features. "I didn’t tell anyone." He explains, trying his hardest to downplay it. But if he was being completely honest, it was something he thought about every single day- sometimes multiple times a day. A few more shots of whiskey and he would probably admit that too. "It wasn't a big deal." 

"Wasn't a big deal?" Scott stutters, clearly baffled. "Stiles, it’s Lydia! The girl you've had a crush on since we were eight- when we barely even knew what it meant to have a crush on a girl. Her lips were on your lips. Of course that's a big deal!" 

"In another situation I would completely agree with you, Scotty." Stiles chuckles, attempting to make light of the situation- that and Scott's melodramatics were hilarious. "But she only did it so I wouldn’t die from a fucking panic attack. It didn't mean anything." He lies. "Or at least, It didn't mean anything to her." He adds after they both give him a disbelieving look. 

"I don't know about that." Sam laughs. "I've heard of a bunch of different ways to stop a panic attack- none of them include kissing." 

"She tried a bunch of different things first." He explains. "She tried to get me to take deep breaths, tried to get me to think of happy things- but then she brought up family which didn't help." He huffs a small laugh out of his nose. "She told me to look at her. She took my face in her hands to get me to focus on her which I did and then-" He trails off. 

"Then she kissed you." Sam finishes. Stiles nods. "She took your face in her hands, looked you in the eyes and then kissed you." 

"Yes?" Stiles replies, unsure of the nature of these questions. 

Sam looks to Scott, they share a smile before turning their attention back to Stiles. "Lydia wanted to kiss you." Sam concludes, so matter-of-factly that it makes Stiles head spin. 

"What?" He bursts. "No, It wasn't like-" 

"So then what happened?" Sam cuts him off, not having the patience for his denial. 

 

_______________

 

"An emotional- what?" 

"Emotional tether." Lydia fights between laughing and rolling her eyes at his confusion. "Deaton said it had to be someone not only to hold them under but to pull them back. Sort of like a life line, I guess." 

"And he said that you should be the one to hold Stiles under? His tether?" 

"Yes. At first I figured it would be Allison. She's my best friend so it only made sense." She feels like she's defending herself, even though there's no need to. "But when Deaton said to go with Stiles, that made sense too. I mean, I did feel the connection between us when we-"

"Kissed." Dean competes before she can even form the word, a smug smirk on his face. 

"Yes, when we kissed." Lydia actually does roll her eyes this time. "But I felt it before to. I tried to ignore it but after we kissed I couldn't anymore." A frown forms on her lips at the memory of that night at the clinic, the events that unfolded. "Dean, having to hold him underwater while he struggled- watching the life go out from him because of my hands. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I killed him. Those sixteen hours were pure torture, not knowing if he was coming back- or Allison and Scott for that matter."

"They were out for sixteen hours?" Dean utters, the disbelief evident in his raised eyebrows. 

Lydia nods. Her stomach twists just thinking about it. "I knew then that I would feel the same way he said he would if something ever happened to me. If he didn't come back-"  
�"You would literally go out of your freakin' mind?" Dean smirks. 

"I swear to god, if you bring that up one more time." She groans, her eyes searching for something new to throw at him. She decides on a little container of raspberry jam, which-much to her annoyance- he catches. "I would, though." She admits. "And that terrified me. So afterwards, I didn't tell him how I felt. I thought I had some time to work through that fear when everything was settled but then…. The Nogitsune." 

 

__________

 

"Basically a thousand year old spirit who feeds off chaos and pain." Scott synopses quickly, knowing how badly Stiles hated talking about it. "He possessed Stiles and sort of, wrecked havoc." Scott adds, trying his best to tread lightly. 

"I appreciate it, Scotty. But you don't have to sugar coat it." Stiles takes another swig from the bottle. "I terrorized the entire town of Beacon Hills. I put a hit out on Kira, I stabbed you, I bombed the sheriff station, set the oni lose in the hospital- hurt your mom, kidnapped Lydia-" He sniffles. "Nearly killed Allison. Did kill Aiden." 

"Stiles-" 

"And that's only part of it." 

"It wasn't your fault. None of it was your-" 

"I remember all of it, Scott." Stiles demands. "If I had been stronger, if I had fought harder to not let him in- none of that would have happened." 

"That's not true, Stiles. You couldn't-" 

"So," Stiles turns toward Sam refusing to listen to any of Scott reassuring words. Nothing he was could say would make him feel any less responsible for what he had done, so he might as well save them both the time. "Any minuscule chance I ever had with Lydia went up in flames after that. I mean, I'm the reason her boyfriend's dead. I nearly killed her best friend- and not to mention I kidnapped and terrorized her." Another swig. "I couldn’t even forgive myself, how could I possible expect her to?" 

 

___________

 

"He distanced himself from me after that." Lydia says sadly. "I tried not to take it personally, he had kind of pushed everyone away. And I didn’t blame him for it, after everything that happened he just needed time. So I gave him the space I thought he needed but truthfully all I wanted to do was be there for him like he had always been for me." She tucks in bottom lip between her teeth. "But I guess he needed more than space." She spits it out with a lot more venom than she had indented. She was unable to mask her bitterness- which Dean has clearly picked up on. 

"What does that mean?" 

 

___________

 

"Malia?" Sam's forehead creases in confusion. "I figured she had a thing with Isaac." 

"Oh, she does." Stiles confirms. 

"You know about that?" Scott asks, alarm evident in his tone and his wide eyes. 

"It doesn't take a genius to figure that one out, buddy." Stiles laughs. "Besides we've talked about it." He elaborates when Scott's eyes grow even wider. 

"Can I ask why you broke up?" Sam asks. 

"Honestly at first there wasn't a clear breakup. We had a disagreement about something and-" Stiles shrugs. "I don't know. I guess when we weren't upset with each other anymore and it came time to make up, we didn't have enough reasons to get back together." 

"What were your reasons for getting together in the first place, then?" Sam questions, knowing he's walking a thin line with his boldness. 

"She wasn't Lydia." He spits out like it's reflex. "Oh god, that sounds awful. I didn't mean it like that- or ugh- I don’t know. Maybe I did. God, I'm a terrible person." He groans, again cursing the whiskeys ability to leave him completely unfiltered. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I felt good to be with someone that didn’t know all the terrible things I'd done. I didn't feel guilty when I was with her. Which felt really good. And don’t get me wrong, I liked Malia. I liked her a lot. But after a while I had other things to feel guilty about when I was with her….so the feeling kind of faded." He fiddles with the wire of a spiral notebook on his desk. This was his first time openly talking about all this, honestly talking about it. He felt defenseless, insecure but at the same time- light, like for once he wasn't bearing the weight alone. 

"What things did you feel guilty about when you were with her?" 

"New things I had done." He shrugs, a knot forms in his throat when he thinks about Donovan's lifeless body. Thankfully, Sam doesn't push for details. "Bad things that she knew about. I also think after a while she realized how I felt about- how I feel about Lydia." Sam and Scott both wear expressions that he reads as 'no shit, everyone knows' but he choses to ignore them. "So I would feel guilty even mentioning Lydia's name around her. I tried to spend as little amount of time around Lydia as possible because I thought it wasn't fair to Malia. And truthfully my relationship with Malia was partly my way of trying to get over her, which of course didn’t work." He's barely getting a breath in between words at this point. "The more I thought about it the worst I felt. I felt guilty because was pushing Lydia away to try to get over her and I was wasting Malia's time because it wasn't working. And may I add, deciding to date a were coyote was definitely not my smartest move." 

"Why is that?" Sam laughs. Scott is smiling like he already knows the answer. 

"Chemo signals." Stiles taps his nose dramatically, which only makes them laugh harder. "Why couldn’t you pick a nice human girl as your first girlfriend, Stiles? Why did you have to pick a girl who could literally hear your heart rate pick up whenever Lydia walked into the room? or smell the jealously you exude whenever she talks to Parrish or-"

"Parrish?" Sam cuts into his one sided conversation. He turns to Scott. "Like Deputy Parrish, that we just met at the station?" 

 

_______________

 

"Wait, the deputy?" Dean waves, effectively bringing Lydia's story to a halt. She confirms the statement with a simply nod. "I just met him. He has to be in his late twenties. Twenty seven, easily." Dean scowls. 

"And?" She chuckles. 

"Lydia, you were in high school." He points out. "And he calls himself an officer of the law…." He tisks. "Hiding behind the badge." He says with a disapproving shake of his head. 

"Nothing happened!" Lydia defends. Dean shoots her an unconvinced glare. "It didn't!" His expression doesn't waver. "Ok, maybe a little light flirting." She admits. "But that's it." 

"That's what I thought."

She rolls her eyes at the self-satisfaction written on his face. "I was a little bored." She tries to justify. "And Jordan's a really nice guy." 

"Ah, yes. And you now have a lady boner for nice guys." 

"Please never use the term 'lady boner' ever again." She begs, her face colored with disgust. 

"I regretted it once it came out of my mouth." He admits, cringing. "Let’s please move on. So you were flirting with officer overly-friendly to distract yourself from Stiles and Malia being together." 

"I wouldn't exactly say that." 

"Well, I would." He smirks. "And I did. So, what happened next?" 

She thinks about it for a second, honestly confused herself about the timeline of events. "Um, then I was admitted into Eichen House." 

Dean's face tenses up with concern. "The same place Stiles was admitted?" 

"Yes, same hell hole." Lydia confirms. "I was in a catatonic state and my mom didn't know what else to do. She didn't think regular doctors could help me. She was right about that but so wrong about Eichen being the right place to seek help from." 

"What happened there?" Dean asks, not entirely sure he wants to hear the answer.

"They did experiments on me. Drilled holes into my head." She tries to shrug it off but truthfully she still has nightmares. "They wanted to tap into my power as banshee. The holes were an attempt to unleash something. I still don't fully know the reasoning for it."

Dean reaches his hand out, just wanting to comfort her somehow. In the short amount of time they've known each other he's really grown to care for her. And he knows that she doesn't deserve to endure torture like that, no one does. He hopes his touch communications what his words aren't. 

She sends him a reinsuring smile. "Stiles saved me." She continues after a heavy pause. "Well, the whole pack, really. It was a team effort to break me out. But Stiles was the first one by my side. I begged him to leave because it wasn't safe- he wouldn't. He practically carried me out of the place. He stayed by my side in the car ride to the clinic, held my hand while I laid on Deaton's table. He even shielded me from shattered glass when I screamed."

"Like a banshee scream? Were you predicting someone's death?" 

"I think…my own." Lydia replies sadly. "I saw a light you know." She admits, even surprising herself. Dean's squeezes her hand for her to continue. "One moment I was in pain on that metal table in Deaton's clinic and the next I felt weightless, like I was floating away to a place without the pain and hurt and the stress. And I wanted to go to it so badly, but-"

"But?" He wonders. He squeezes her hand again, attempting to lift her eyes- which were locked on the surface of the table.

"I heard his voice. I remembered him saying 'death doesn't happen to you, Lydia. It happens to everyone around you. To all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they're gonna live the rest of their lives now without you in it'." She pauses for a moment, half expecting him to have some wise ass comment. But when he stays silent, she continues. "I felt my self getting weighed down by those words. They kept looping in my head. And then I heard new words, his words. Like he was calling to me. He kept saying my name, begging me to show him my eyes, to open my eyes, to wake up. So I did." 

"He pulled you back." Dean says, amazement flicking in his eyes. "Like Deaton said, an emotional tether." Lydia smiles sadly and nods. 

"When I opened my eyes, he had this look of profound relief in his eyes and they were shining with unshed tears and I thought, in that moment, we had found our way back." Her lips twitch at the look on Dean's face, like he's hanging on to every word. "And it felt like we had for a while. He refused to leave my side that night, saying he just wanted to make sure I was okay. I think he was a little embarrassed but I was relieved, I didn’t want him to leave. He slept over that night. He said he was fine on the floor but I insisted he slept in my bed with me-my motives were purely selfish thought." She adds. Dean kinks a brow at her. "Not like that pervert!" She throws another container of jam at him while he laughs. "Because I felt safer with him next to me. I always have." She admits. "And we had this moment. We just held each other and whispered reassuring words and- I don’t know. But it was really nice. I just gazed at him until my heavy eyelids won and I feel asleep. I've never had a moment like that with anyone before-Where little to no words are spoken but so many are said. Oh god, that sounds dumb." She hides her face, her cheeks warm from embarrassment. 

"No, it doesn't." Dean chimes in. "Very cheesy but not dumb." He grins at her when she un-shields her face. 

"Shut up." She tries to scowl but can't prevent a laugh from escaping her lips. "It's just that, I-" She huffs, frustrated at her inability to find the right words. "All of those moments- the ones where I felt safe and understood and genuinely happy. All of those, they were will Stiles." She confesses. "And when I feel asleep that night, I swore to myself that I wasn't going to waste anymore time with him. But then I woke up in the morning and he wasn't there. And when I saw him at school it was like the whole night hadn’t happened. And then I felt guilty because of Malia, by that time we had actually become pretty close. So I went back on my promise. We only had moments like that again when one of our lives were on the line. Then after we were safe, boom- like it never happened. Like living in a loop. Which was very frustrating-"

"So why didn't you do something about it!?" 

She grumbles, partly annoyed at his persistent questions and partly because she knows he's right. "But the time, I thought, an appropriate amount of time had pasted after his breakup with Malia…." She hesitates, knowing Dean won't be pleased with her reasoning. "It was time for college acceptances." As expected, he groans. "I knew that if I told him how I felt and he felt the same that it would alter his decision. He wouldn't be picking a school for him, he would be picking for me. I would be holding him back. And if he didn't feel the same I would be completely ruining our friendship. Either way, I couldn't bare it." 

 

__________

 

"Why are we listening to this song exactly?" Sam questions as he watches Stiles sway with the bottle of whiskey that he successful swiped back from Scott. It's not that he's opposed to listening to music, per say, but the song is oddly romantic to be listening to in a room with two guys he barely knows. 

"And what song even is this?" Scott asks, confused by how his best friends knows all the words to a song he doesn’t think he's ever heard. 

"It's 'Not Just A Girl' by She wants Revenge" Stiles replies with a slight slur of his s'. "and we are listening to be because it’s the song that played the first time I ever danced with Lydia." 

"Wow, that's actually pretty perfect." Scott nearly laughs at how well the lyrics seem to match with the way he feels about Lydia. If memory serves, Stiles did used some words similar to those lyrics while talking about Lydia. 

They were in the 7th grade, Scott was in a particularly bad mood and yelled at him for talking his ear off about her. He had told him to stop obsessing over her, that it was normal to talk about a girl that much. Stiles had simply replied with, "She's not just a girl, Scott" before dropping the subject. 

Scott had felt guilty about it then and he feels guilty now. Guilty for ever trying to convince Stiles to hide his feelings. Clearly his advice had worked- a little too well in his opinion. But he's putting a stop to that. He won't let two of his best friends hold back their feelings for each other any longer, especially when it's preventing them from being truly happy. 

"I know, right?" Stiles smiles, eyes closed, lips on the rim of the bottle. He gulps down the bitter liquor as the song plays out. "It's like it was fate for something." 

 

___________

 

"Do you believe in fate, Dean?" 

"Fate like- You and Stiles both ending up at school on the East Coast." He snarks through a mouthful of his bacon burger. 

She attempts to roll her eyes, but her eye lids are too heavy. "No, fate like- destiny." Her words come out slowly, her lack of sleep hitting her like a mac truck. "Because I see it like this," She slurs like she's drunk. "The past five years have been a never ending loop of Stiles and I, just, constantly missing each other. Through relationships, supernatural threats," She begins to tally using her finger. "-college, Etcetera. We just kept missing each other. Don’t you think that is fate's way of saying that we aren’t meant to be together. Like if we were, wouldn’t we have been by now." 

"Okay, first-" Dean put down his burger and rubs her eyes with his knuckles. "The only thing that is tearing the two of you apart is fear, clearly." 

Lydia scoffs. 

"No. it's the truth, Lydia." He demands. "You are scared of the way he makes you feel and getting hurt again. Stiles is afraid of- uh," He ponders the thought for a moment. "Rejection probably. Not only because you are the girl he's had a crush on for ages but because you're friends now and he doesn’t want to lose that friendship, probably." He adds the 'probably's for insurance. He's pretty sure he has a solid read on the situation but also- he's only known them for a few days. 

"I'm scared to lose our friendship too." She admits with a pout. 

"Exactly. Fear. That's what's getting in your way of you two actually being together. Not fate." 

She shrugs, not entirely convinced. 

"Fate's a myth, Lydia." Dean assures. "There are no outside forces deciding your future. We control our destiny." He starts on super inspiring, if he does say so himself, speech about how the only one who's decides her fate is her until he realizes she has completely zoned out. "Lydia?" 

"I'm sorry." She says shaking herself out of it. "What was the first thing you said?" 

"I don’t know." He replies. "I was kind of on a roll. Really uplifting stuff. I bet if you heard any of it you would feel so inspired right now. Maybe I should trade in my shotgun for a microphone and become a motivationally speaker." He jokes. "What do you think?" 

"Fate's a myth." She repeats.

"Ah, so some of it did stick." He taps his index against his temple. "I'm telling ya, I should be preaching to the masses." 

"Dean." Lydia attempts to cut in.

"I'm thinking cross- country tours, meet and greets-"

"Dean." She tries again. 

"-one of those self help CDs that people listen to in their car. Which I always found creepy by the way. The voice is always so monotone and-"

"Dean!" 

"What?" He frowns. 

"I think I know what’s responsible for the attacks. I know what we're dealing with."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! This chapter is a lot longer than I had planned, whoops. Hope you like it though!


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